Prateek S.
Yelp
When I visited my aunt in India, there was a tiny stall a couple of blocks away where a little mustachioed guy would sit cross-legged on a slab and make tea. It wasn't that testicle-floating-in-hot-water tea that you drink here.
This dude had whole cinnamon, cloves, cardamom, ginger, and even black pepper and he used a smooth stone to grind them all to a fine powder on the spot. Then he'd add these into a steaming pot of whole milk with loose, black tea leaves and sugar and let it all simmer until the tea was the color of caramel.
Then he'd filter it from a great height straight into another pot. Back and forth through the strainer the tea would go, picking up even more flavor along the way, and thoroughly dissolving the sugar. For a tea-man, this step is crucial because it's showmanship. It's his sexy lingerie. Froth develops both on the surface of the tea and the mouths of customers. Finally, he pours the tea into a number of glasses or clay cups continuously without spilling a drop.
The ritual entails the whole experience: The tea-man's goofy, crooked but warm smile, the pour, and the flavor are why people keep coming back and will remember the place even when they're over 7,000 miles away.
Bess's Cafe is exactly like that to the High Street Hill neighborhood of Brookline.
I haven't lived in Brookline for seven years but I've made the 70-minute journey by public transit more than once to experience that warmth. And to taste some of the freshest Chinese food in the area.
That is the selling point, because the dumplings' flavor is subtle, but the dough tastes hand-made and like it was made that day, as does the filling. The chili oil on one variation of the dumpling is not hot at all but it has sweetness and an evasive pungency that left me satisfied.
The only change I'd make is to give the oil a little more body by adding some more of the chili paste in there and a dash of acidity to balance out the sweetness. The bassinet-shaped dough will carry that perfectly in each bite whereas the oil tends to spill.
But this is not to say the chili oil is not delicious. It's just that everyone has their own preferences when it comes to dumplings. One dumpling's overwhelming flavor is another's failure. Sometimes, subtlety is what the chef is going for and he will always find a market for it.
I like both types. Some dumplings are like Chinook helicopters filled with Navy SEALs. The second they hit their target, they unload almost all at once and take over in a matter of seconds. The precision of the SEAL strategy is akin to the precise balance of ingredients in a strongly-flavored dumpling. Ginger, garlic, scallion, rich sauce, all have their roles and the meat, the point-man, is yelling, "CLEAR" in a matter of seconds.
Other dumplings, like Bess's, are like a sniper's bullet. It'll give you a second to appreciate the hit but it will get the job done. Neither is better or worse. It depends on the mission.
Of course, if you want something more assertive, you can always get the spicy beef soup. Don't expect ramen, hot and sour, or even an egg drop. They are all much denser than Bess's soup. Bess's soup is actually a soup: It has a clear but flavorful broth that rents space to a number of carefully chosen and, again, extremely fresh ingredients.
Sitting on the ocean floor are fresh noodles and swimming near the surface are four generous slices of beef, a few dried red chiles, scallions, cilantro, and a boiled egg. I have not had a soup like this anywhere else in Boston and it's that uniqueness that leads to cravings. I don't often crave stuff I can get off a menu stuck under my door.
I left the egg because I'm not a fan of it and the guy at the counter made sure to tell me that he would leave out any ingredient I asked in the future. They want to save money of course but the way he said it showed a desire to please. He just wanted to disavow any attitude towards special requests.
It's this personal touch and the unique flavors that make Bess's Cafe the aluminum-siding tea stall of Brookline. Places like that are also the Bengal tiger of the food world: Critically endangered. Enjoy it before that space gets bought out by the Cheesecake Factory and becomes a hive for sweaty tubs of shit.
